Free Deader Still by Anton Strout Page A

feeling passed before changing tactics. “It’s just that you’re not a field agent. You’re a researcher for now, and I don’t want you to get mixed up in practicing anything from all this dark source material back here.”
    “That practical application did save your life, you know,” she said, striking a he-man pose and flexing her muscles.
    “Fair point,” I said, relaxing a little and kissing her on the nose. “I just worry; that’s all.”
    “I know,” she said, and hugged me. I grabbed her head and kissed the top of it, which gave me an idea.
    “Speaking of worrying,” I said. “I suppose I could give you a little field agent expertise, like how to fight zombies. I’ve already been through “Shufflers and Shamblers,” so this will give you a leg up.”
    “Okay,” she said.
    “First off, never let them get as close to your skull as I just did.”
    Jane gave me a thumbs-up. “Check.”
    “And your best bet is to try to outrun them. You’re faster than ninety percent of the zombie variants out there, but if you’re cornered and have to fight, blunt trauma to the head still seems to be the best way to take them down.”
    Jane went a little gray. “You really are worried, aren’t you?”
    I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “About a lot of things, but zombies are on the rise and just this afternoon we came across this boatful of dead people that might have been killed by vampires. I haven’t really been schooled so much on them yet or else I’d be teaching you about them, too. There’s only so much vampire slaying I can learn from watching the Buffy boxed set. Then, on top of all that, somebody messed with the Oubliette … so I just want to make sure that you’re prepared.”
    “Vamps? For real?” she asked, practically bouncing up and down with a morbid excitement. I took a moment to observe how all the right parts on her shifted with the movement. It was hard not to.
    “You might want to rethink the low riders,” I said, pointing at her pants.
    She looked at me with a mask of confusion.
    “Do zombies or vampires have something against fashion?” she asked.
    “No,” I said, before I could stop myself, “but maybe you could not wear them while working with Director Wesker.”
    It was juvenile, but I couldn’t help it. Being with Jane brought out something protective in me.
    She tugged them up a little higher to cover the hint of her zebra-stiped underwear that was sticking out. “Simon,” she said, a little perturbed, “don’t be silly.”
    “I’m just saying,” I said, trying to sound disarming, but failing completely. I didn’t quite know how to deal with this feeling welling up inside me, and although I had held my tongue at first, I could feel myself slipping.
    “I’m just saying,” I repeated, “you don’t see me calling Inspectre Quimbley ‘Argyle.’ ”
    Jane rolled her eyes. “Can we not get into this now?” she asked. She lowered her voice. “I’m kinda at work here …”
    Do not get into this with her, especially not here, I thought to myself. Just leave before you say something stupid.
    “Sure,” I said. I picked up the requisition she had signed, folded it, and slipped it in my pocket. “Thanks.”
    I turned toward the gate.
    “Simon, don’t go away mad,” she pleaded.
    “Just go away, right?” I couldn’t stop myself.
    “Jeesh,” Jane said. “Do I crawl up your butt when you’ve got a case you’re working on? I’m making real progress here. They’ve got me researching like crazy in total Willow-mode here, and I think I have the Stacks actually playing nice with me.”
    I paused. Truthfully, I was impressed, but with the horrible day I’d had, this wasn’t the way I wanted to end it. She was the one good thing I had going for me right now, but I couldn’t control the schoolboy jealousy.
    “Can we discuss this later, then?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound as cranky as I felt. Jane nodded, wrapping her arms around the book she held,